Mouse in the Maze
by LD Little Dragon
Summary: A tale of lab experiments and specimens who refuse to die.


Just an idea that came to me after I started writing about a certain NPC in my Heritage series (which I'm working on, slowly, but I am working on it).

**Mouse In The Maze**

It was waking up to the emptiness that he dreaded. When he could see nothing, hear nothing, and feel nothing but the warmth of the thick liquid that surrounded him. At first, he tried to cling to memories, but soon it was only the memory of once having memories that he focused on.

He wanted to feel something, and began to look forwards to the times he woke strapped to a table, screaming as what felt like a thousand tiny needles probed his brain. Sometimes, he passed out before the pain stopped, and other times he stayed awake long enough to see the wires that ran between his body and the man who lay on the table beside him. It was always the same man, his half-elven features looked familiar, but he had no idea who he was.

A man with a face that never seemed to move, always stood between the two tables, watching the occupants as he adjusted a machine with strange lights and levers. Sometimes, there was also a woman with a soft voice who would watch as well. Once, she had caressed him with a cold hand. "Pretty, pretty mousie. Would you like to play?" she had said.

"Leave him, I still have a use for his life essence," the man by the machine had said in an emotionless voice.

"Why do you waste so much time and expense duplicating this one, brother?" she had asked. "Oh, I do appreciate the ones you've given me to play with. They make such lovely, mindless fledglings, but all you do is destroy yours. So much simpler to use those annoying thieves I give you."

"You cannot possible comprehend what I am doing here," he had answered in a cold voice. "Suffice to say that observing the effects of different deaths on the same creature is necessary for my research."

That was the only time they spoke about him.

After a while, he no longer woke up on the table. There was nothing but the emptiness. Time ceased to have meaning, and he began to think about just letting his soul drift away. He wondered if he could will himself to die, if he should try to embrace death, but whenever he thought too much about dying, a vision of a woman with gold-streaked brown hair appeared in his mind. He could not remember who she was, but was certain that if he died she would, somehow, never let him hear the end of it. So, he resigned himself to waiting in the emptiness. If death came, it would not be because he welcomed it.

He had almost learned to enjoy the sameness of his days, when he was shocked out of a pleasant dream by pain shooting through his whole body. He was lying on something hard, and he gasped as air entered his lungs, displacing the liquid that had kept him in suspension. There was no light to be seen, and, as his eyes shifted to nightvision, he saw three short, stocky figures hovering over him. _Dwarves?_

"Laduguer's piss, this one's still alive," one exclaimed in surprise.

"Don't matter, just kill him quick," another said. "The meat'll be all the better for being fresh, anyway."

_Kill ... me?_ The thought had barely begun to register when the dwarf swung a huge hammer at his head. Acting on reflect, he rolled away, wincing as several sharp objects pierced his skin, coming to stand on shaky feet a few paces away from the dwarf facing him. Sometime during the roll his hand had grasped a large shard of broken glass, and with a yell he dove towards his assailant. Soon, he stood over the bloodied body of the dwarf, and snarled at the other two dwarves.

The dwarves looked at him with expressions of shock, and then looked at each other. "Bugger this!" one yelled as both turned to flee.

He slumped to the floor in a daze, wanting nothing more than to let sleep take him, but instead bound his wounds as best he could. Stripping the dead dwarf, he dressed in the ill-fitting tunic, gazing wistfully at the armour that would never fit him, but feeling comforted by the war hammer that was now slung on his belt. Greedily, he drank from the waterskins, and eyed the dried meat in the dwarf's pack with both hunger and suspicion.

_Well?_ He heard the voice of the woman from his visions say. _Go on, eat, you need to keep your strength up._

_Yes, dear_, he thought with a grimace as he closed his eyes and started chewing.

The room he woke up in was filled with huge bottles, some broken, like the one it seemed he had been in, and others intact, but with nothing but darkness to be seen inside. Nothing he found gave him a clue as to where he was, or what had been done to him. He had knowledge that must have come from a life before this place, but no idea who he had been.

He set out to explore the warren of tunnels that led out from the room with the jars, and found nothing but more puzzles. There was a room with pools of water fed from underground springs where he could quench his thirst, and the air was sweet, proving there must be a way to the surface, but huge piles of dirt, rock, and brick blocked the tunnels that may have led to a way out. He found the dwarves, busily tunnelling downwards. He decided they must be searching for a tunnel that would lead into the vast caverns of the Underdark, and kept out of their way. He would keep an eye on their progress, if they found a way out he might have no choice but to follow them.

Hoping to find a way to the surface, he was elated to catch the scent of trees and grass wafting through one blocked tunnel, and dug his way through a thin layer of rock. He was disappointed to find a cavern with a magically sustained grove, and three sad Dryads, instead of the surface. They did have food, however, and once he convinced the wood spirits he meant them no harm, they were glad to help him, and healed his body, if not his mind.

The presence of the supernaturally alluring females had another effect on him. One that he was at first embarrassed by, but the Dryads were willing enough to help him sate his sexual urges, and he began to lose his desire to leave. Something made him restless, however, and he felt a vague sense of guilt, as though he should not be dallying with the Dryads. With reluctance, he left the grove to try unblocking a tunnel that led upwards. It was slow work, but with time he was sure he would find a way to the surface.

Scrabbling at the debris, he was elated to hear the sounds of hammering coming from the other side. He hollered as loud as he could, and was answered. Eagerly, he waited to greet whoever had come to rescue him.

His elation fell as soon as the creature stepped through the newly opened passage. He recognized the features of the man who had lain on the other table, only they seemed distorted now, and the face was far too pale. With horror, he saw the creature open its mouth to display overlarge canine teeth. _Undead_, he thought with a sinking heart. He tried to fight, but was no match for the creature, and soon sagged in the embrace of the vampire as it sank its teeth into his neck.

"No!" the voice of the woman who had watched him on the table called out. "Bad boy! Leave the mousie alone!"

With a whimper, the vampire let him go, and they both watched the newcomer, unable to do anything but wait for whatever came next.

"How clever of you to survive, my little mouse," she purred, running a hand through his hair, before winding it around her hand and pulling hard. "I'd like to keep you for myself, but perhaps it would be better to send you as a gift to my brother. I must keep him happy, at least until he's done what he promised. Sleep now."

The next time he woke up, he saw the man from the tables. This time he could see that he wore a mask over his face. The masked man seemed irritated. "I have no more use for this one. Throw him to the Director's maze; it might be amusing to see how long he survives."

_If he has no use for me, why couldn't he just let me go?_ He thought tiredly when he once more found himself trapped in an underground maze of tunnels and monsters. _Have I ever walked the surface?_

Weeks passed, and he had explored as much as possible. Roving packs of hungry Umber Hulks and Minotaurs were a threat, but the few times he could not hide, or sneak by them, he was able to outrun the creatures. Several doors led to caverns with artificial light and meadows where food, small animals and edible plants, could be found. These areas were guarded zealously by whatever group could stake their claim to them. He found hints that the way out could be found in the part of the dungeon farthest from the first area he explored, but the way there was barred by a Lich and his minions.

He had survived by stalking stragglers from the larger groups, and taking what he needed to survive from their corpses, but now it seemed he would be living in the maze for a long time, and he wanted allies. The Yuan-ti and Kobold settlements proved too hostile to make contact with, and he sought out a tribe of Goblins to join. The Goblins agreed to ally with him after he helped them defeat a Rakshasa and its pet Mephits that were preying on the tribe.

He discovered a portal in the room the Rakshasa had been living in, and when he went to study it, a voice spoke of three gemstones that would open the portal. In his earlier explorations he had found three gemstones that pulsed with power, and now he took one of them out and held it in front of the portal. A snarl could be heard when the portal opened, and he gripped his sword and fought back the fear that washed over him when the distorted, shaggy figure of a werewolf lunged forwards and attacked him. He barely survived the fight, and spent days lying in a stupor as his wounds slowly healed, aided by the regenerative nature of a ring he had found sometime before.

He was disappointed to see the portal was closed again, but still had two gemstones left. Wary of what might come through the portal this time, he stood at the entrance to the room, as far from the portal as he could get, and lobbed a gemstone towards the portal. He was sure his heart stopped when a demon appeared in front of the portal. It started beating again, very rapidly, when the demon turned its gaze on him. He turned and ran, hearing claws scratch on the floor as the pit fiend followed him. The demon was faster than him, but hampered by the small width of the corridors of the maze, and he was able to keep ahead of the demon as he led it towards the area claimed by the Yuan-ti.

The Yuan-ti hissed and hefted their weapons threateningly when he hurtled into their camp. They soon forgot about him, however, when the enraged demon swept upon them. He dove behind a row of makeshift tents, and watched as the Yuan-ti and the demon destroyed each other. The few Yuan-tis that survived the battle were too weak to hinder him when he left their camp.

After the Werewolf and the Demon, he was reluctant to use the final gemstone. He was beginning to lose hope of ever finding a way out of the dungeons, however, and finally decided to try the portal one more time. Once again, he stood at the far end of the room, and tossed the gem at the portal. This time, a Djinni appeared, and he stepped forwards cautiously when the Djinni showed no signs of hostility.

The Djinni looked crossly at him before speaking. "The stone commands and I must obey. This armour is the gift to those of sound mind. A puzzle. A riddle. A reward. Thusly was my home built and I have fulfilled my duties. You are doing well, Khalid."

_Khalid? Is that who I was?_ He wondered, but before he could speak, the Djinni disappeared, leaving behind a full set of plate armour. He stared thoughtfully at the once-more closed portal for some time. He was pleased to have the armour, but far more grateful for the gift of a name. He was no closer to getting free than before opening the portal, but felt a growing certainty that if he could survive, he would one day be free.

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Note: this story in complete. I just wanted a way to get Khalid alive in BGII without altering the original storyline too much. It always bugged me that there was no way to get Khalid back for Jaheira in the game.


End file.
